


The "What Happened Last Night" Mental Waltz

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up hurting three ways from Sunday and pieces it back together- how he got this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The "What Happened Last Night" Mental Waltz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaige68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/gifts).



> Gifted to Kaige68 for all she puts into our comm, and because she's actually, really excited for me to write some Supernatural, which is a HUGE compliment. Hope this is a good start.

Dean woke up to a multitude of miseries, not sure which one to focus on first.

How about the ache in his arms from elbow to shoulder and over his back? Yeah, that sucked. But not as much as his ass and his thighs hurt, or his breath reeked of alcohol even to his own nose. He felt like a very hung over version of one of those stretchy rubber he-man toys they’d had as kids. And someone had played with him hard.

“Where’s the cat?” He growled, still face down. He tried to make it sound flippant, but it came out a dehydrated rasp. 

No answer from Sam. Sam was supposed to say ‘what cat?’ so Dean could say ‘the one that took a crap in my mouth.’

He didn’t so much sit up as crawl up, groaning, hurting everywhere.

No answer, because no Sam. 

What the hell happened last night?

~~*~~

It seemed best to think it through in the shower; take ‘er piece by piece.

He walked, naked and aching, to his duffel and fished through it for Tylenol caplets, found a couple between the clean tees and jeans. He popped them in his mouth as he cranked on the cold in the shower and stepped in, sucking in enough water to swallow the pills and then shouting a string of obscenities at the ceiling until the shock wore off.

He flicked on a little hot and buried his head under the stream.

What had happened last? Before this?

Bliss. He remembered bliss; the hungriest mouth he’d ever kissed, a teasing, dancing tongue against his tongue, teeth on his neck, shoulders, digging into his hip, then the exact spot between thigh and ass cheek so sensitive he’d arched and shouted and sobbed.

He had been held down, pinned at the hip and the head; taken like a whore, and then pulled in tight. Treasured. Petted.

Fucking embarrassing, how good it felt. All of it.

~~*~~

 

Dean shivered as he left the warmth of the bathroom and hit the chill bedroom air. 

He hadn’t noticed the clothes on the way in –his clothes, flung widely; socks near the motel room door and on the nightstand, shirt hanging on the TV, jeans on the bed Sam was definitely not in.

He sat on the edge of his bed, damp towel still around his waist, and brushed a hand over his hair to keep the water from running into his eyes.

Water. Eyes.

They’d fought, he and Sam. Not just the usual pissy-assed bitching; furious words, accusations that couldn’t get taken back because they were grounded in painful truth.

“The train station’s not even a tenth of a mile away…” 

Sam; eyes half averted -- trying not to show how hurt he was. 

“I swear, I’ll walk it. And this time I’m not coming back.”

“You, walking? Really, the shock … the unprecedented nature of such a threat, it’s … what, only the billion and tenth goddamned time?”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

Sam had walked.

~~*~~

It took a while to get dry and dressed and packed. 

He didn’t check out, not sure if he should drive on or stick around and wait.

He sat in the Impala with one hand on the key and one on the wheel. He’d go find breakfast, first, and think them through -- the pieces still missing.

“Don’t forget to knock when you come crawling back!”

He remembered now, yelling it at Sam from three steps outside the barroom door.

“’Cause I’m going in there and I’m drinking them dry. Then I’m latching onto the first pretty thing I see. Hard.”

No answer, because no Sam. Sam wasn’t playing.

~~*~~

“I love everyone in this bar!” He’d shouted as he pushed the door open.

Except it was Sunday night in a small town and, fate being a bitch, the place was empty.

Nearly empty.

“Cas?”

He’d walked over to where Cas was peeling the label off a beer, a thin, perfect strip- no tears at all. 

“Cas, what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

~~*~~

Dean let his head fall against the headrest, the final pieces falling into place.

Cas putting him just how he wanted him on the bed, taking him on his back, his side, hands tugging at his hair, his cock, his last nerve until he was hovering over them, watching it from above, him coming hard and Cas following a millisecond later.

Out-of-freaking-body sex. With a verified, authenticated angel. Shit….

He’d be a little jealous of himself if he weren’t sitting here alone.

He remembered Sam’s red eyes, and Cas holding him after - that low, hopelessly earnest voice in his ear murmuring ‘mine.’

Dean sighed and cranked the key. 

It was time for pancakes with egg on top and a boatload of syrup and coffee to kick the last of the hangover. Then he would go back to the room and wait. 

They’d come back. They would. 

They always did.


End file.
